MC

One drowsy spring afternoon in Modern American Literature class, my professor accused me of being a romantic. We are talking personality-wise here, not in the literary or aesthetic-sense. Loudly, in front of the entire class, with basically no context, he said, "Now David, I think he's a romantic. Aren't you, David?" (I think he was probably flirting with me. He loved hugs from boys, asked for them frequently, but I can't remember ever seeing him hug a girl.) After a modicum of teasing by my friendly classmates and about eight years of reflection, today I find that he was correct. I am something of a romantic. (Sometimes our teachers tell us what to become, and sometimes they help us become what we already are. I'm not qualified to say which is the case here.)

This romantic made a dinner date last Friday night with his girl-buddy Happy. We went to HB, which is a bit more upscale of a restaurant than I usually frequent in Chicago (read: no counter service here). Also, inexplicably, though it is nestled deep in the gayest cockles of the heart of this city, it was chock-full of guy/girl couples. We fit in! But boy, did we have them fooled. After dinner, we moved a few doors down for some fun at my favorite nightspot. Some other friends joined; we were filled with spirits and merriment; we whiled the hours away on the dance floor and in the more conversation-friendly courtyard with great joy.

Then this happened: I noticed a boy. I danced with him. I wrote a missed connection about it. Maybe this was a flare-up of my romantic temperament. Maybe it was silly. Either way, I posted it.

David Visiting from Phoenix, AZ - m4m - 30

I pulled you away from your group of friends late tonight at Roscoe's and asked you to dance with me. You were quite obliging, and by far the cutest guy among hundreds of cute guys at the bar tonight. I am not into hookups or one-nighters, and I got the feeling that you aren't either, so this was going nowhere fast. But I also got the feeling that you are much more than a smoking hot, stylish, vest-wearing guy; you seemed incredibly sweet and kind in the few minutes that I got to spend with you. Thanks again for dancing with me, and I hope that you enjoy your long weekend here in Chicago.

David from Tennessee...
Location: Roscoe's, Friday Night



Yes, friends, I got a hot guy to dance with me. It was a great moment for me, because I am usually not the go-get-'em, instigator type. You can probably glean everything that you need to know about our fabulous ten minutes together from this posting: we danced, we talked, we found out that we were both named David, he told me that he was just visiting for the weekend from Phoenix, we said goodbye. We said goodbye several times, actually. Once on the dance floor. Once when we left the dance floor. Once at the coat check. Once when our groups of friends pushed us towards each other and told us that we should go home together. One last time outside on the sidewalk, replete with fleeting glances and overly dramatic goodbye waves. Yeah, that was me.

Then I went home and wrote the missed connection that you just read. I was pleased to have met him, and felt like I needed to express some thanks and well-wishes. I spent the rest of the weekend hoping that I would run into him and his friends somewhere in the neighborhood, just for laughs. There's really no use having actual hopes or expectations in a situation like this, is there? No, there isn't. Wise words, level-headed perspective there, David #1.

Fast forward to Monday night, when this shows up in my email:

From: davidxxxxxxxx@gmail.com (davidxxxxxxxx@gmail.com)

Wow... I can't tell you how many times my friends told me I was dumb for walking away after we danced & not following up with you before we left the bar. I guess impairment can also affect your judgment negatively to cause you to pass up something good just as much as it can cause you to do something bad. Clearly I missed out on something good here... Hit me back?

and then this:

From: David X Xxxxxxxxxx (davidxxxxxxxxx@gmail.com)

Ok, so first of all I've never done this before and didn't know if my reply would post straight to craigslist, or if it went straight to you, so I didn't include any personal info in my last email. Then, I realized "how would he even know it's actually me and not some creeper?!" So, do this - check my facebook (facebook.com/davidxxxxxxxxx) or just take a look at the pic I've attached. (ooh, the shirt and tie in the pic were actually the same ones I wore under my black vest! But don't tell anyone that... haha! jk) I wish I had some pics from the trip to send, but no such luck.

But yeah, like I mentioned before, I'd definitely like to catch up/keep in touch, if for no other reason than to continue kicking myself for being so overwhelmed by the fun of my first trip to Chicago that I missed a chance to get to know a cute and intelligent guy. I'll stop now before I start/continue to sound crazy...

Hope to talk soon.

Imagine my joy! Imagine my excitement! Imagine a missed connection actually working! Imagine the fact that my eyes seem to water now every time I get really excited about a boy. It isn't crying; it is watery eyes. Bizarre but true.

So I wrote him back tonight. You don't get to know what that email said just yet, but I'll post an update if there is more news to share.

Currently Listening to:
Funhouse by P!nk